


The Color of Sorrow

by Perkiset



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Colors, F/F, F/M, Open Ending, orignal work - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:46:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perkiset/pseuds/Perkiset
Summary: Sometimes, the only way to move on is to let go. Sometimes, you need to linger.
Kudos: 1





	The Color of Sorrow

The day was bright and the sky was gray the day we lowered my soulmate into her grave. The coffin was black and the flowers were white and the surroundings were a thousand shades in between and nothing would even be colorful again because she was gone. As the dark dirt covered her dark coffin, pale beams of light illuminated the dust which was kicked up in tiny poofs as the dirt made contact with the hard surface. The day was light and warm and the sun was shining and everything was black and white. What had previously been yellows and greens and purples and reds and blues was now just an endless shade of gray. 

People started to leave as the day went on, but I stayed there, by her side. The few handfuls of dirt which had been thrown over her casket couldn’t fool me. I knew this was all somehow a prank and she would be fine. She would be fine because there was no way I could go the rest of my life without seeing her eyes in every blue sky, her hair in whatever gem tone she had it dyed that month, her golden skin in every perfectly made caramel latte. She would come back and bring all the color of the world, of my world, of her back with her. I stayed as the sky grew dark and the white stars came out. 

I stayed until someone behind me cleared their throat and placed their hand on my shoulder. They didn’t say a word but I could tell that they wanted me to stand up. It was time to go. Slowly, I stood. I wasn’t sure when I had even sat down, but it must have been a while ago because I could feel the pins and needles running all though my legs as I stretched my calves. 

The persons hand never left my shoulder as I meandered my way through tombstones to reach where I had parked my car. As I stumbled through the headstones, I never even thought of turning around to see who was guiding me, slowly and carefully, through the skeletal fingers that were the grave markers. I just trusted them to know what was best for me. I knew they would never hurt me. Reaching the car, I sat in the passenger’s side, and I felt my head thunk against the headrest. 

My eyes had been dry since I heard the news, and that didn’t change now. My eyes were dry as the Sahara Desert, the tear ducts shriveled up like the wilted carcass of a dead daisy. I didn’t know why I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t eat or sleep or drink anything. All the people around me seemed to be feeling, but I was feeling nothing. I blinked, and between one blink and the next, I was back in my room  


My clothes were changed and I was now wearing long pajama pants and a lose t-shirt. I saw that they were hers and I ducked my head to try and catch a stray waft of her scent, but there was only the clean, fresh scent of nothing. And yet, the tears still refused to come. 

All at once, it was morning and there was a plate of pancakes in front of me. I looked down at them, unable to lift the fork to my mouth, unable to do anything but stare at the pile of food in front of me. My eyes drifted to the side and studied the tablecloth beneath the plate. I knew that it is blue and green floral with a pale-yellow background, but all my mind could see was gray, gray, and all the colors in between. 

Then, so briefly it feels like a dream, out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of purple. It wasn’t the purple of a sunset or a bellflower. Rather, it was the purple of a newly acquired bruise, or the purple at the center of a flame, an angry, seeping color, gone before my mind could truly realize it’s there, but startling in its intensity. 

Then I’m blinking away again, and it’s a few second later, or maybe a few days later, or maybe weeks. Its hard to tell, with the monotonous monochrome both inside and out. There is a plate of eggs in front of me on a paisley paper plate. A bottle of Kwik Trip orange juice sits to the side of the plate, and none of it looks edible. I just sit and stare at it once again. I try and remember what the colors of the tablecloth beneath it are but my mind can’t seem to conjure what they might be. 

Suddenly, just like that time so long ago (or was it only a few seconds?) I see a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. This time it is red. I turn my head to look at it and this time it stays. Its not the red of a rose or the red of painted lips, turned up in a smile. It’s the burning crimson of a red light which someone sped though, the red of a car crash the second before it happens, the red of a spatter of blood against a window. As I watched, color bled out from the red epicenter, like a drop of rubbing alcohol dripped on a sharpie drawing. It was like watching someone draw the radar when a storm is approaching, the red center surrounded by greens and yellows and oranges, all the colors screaming, “Danger! Something is coming!” 

Then the colors changed. They were still the same, but they felt different. They were gentle. The green of grass growing, the yellow of a sunflower, the orange of a midday snack, the red of sunrise. Then they changed again, they spread more, taking over the whole room, and now they were soft and pastel and welcoming, and then there she was. 

She was just as I remembered. Except she wasn’t. There was something…off. Her eyes weren’t shining and her smile wasn’t there. Her hair was lank and her skin was pale. But she was here, and her eyes were blue and her hair was purple and she was right in front of me, if only I could reach out and touch her, everything would be ok and it all would fall into place and I would never have to worry about anything again and…she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were turned towards me but she wasn’t looking at me. She couldn’t see me. 

I looked down at myself and saw what had always been. Pale skin, oval nails, fine, dark hairs running up my arm. I looked back up at her, and this time her head was resting on the table, like she was asleep. I would have believed that if it were for the absolute stillness which surrounded and consumed her. She was never still, waking or sleeping. This was something else. This was forever. Then I heard her voice from behind me, softly saying my name. I turned, and this was who I remembered. Her hair fell in soft amethyst waves and her pink lips turned up in a smile and her cerulean eyes glinted with mirth, laughing at a joke only she knew. Her skin was golden and radiant and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. 

I walked over to her, and took her hands in mine. She gave a small laugh and then tugged me out the door, leaving her body behind at the kitchen, face down in her yellow eggs.


End file.
